


Baking Woes (But Not Really)

by Calacious



Series: Kent-Wayne Family Vingettes [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Capes, Baking, Baking competitions, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Comfortember 2020, Damian Kent-Wayne Mentioned, Gen, Grew Up Together, Kent-Wayne Family, Some Swearing (just one tiny pretty big swear word), brotherly teasing, new apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: Timothy and Richard are visiting Jason at his new apartment. After bingeing way too many episodes of "The Worst Baker in America" they decide that it's time that someone who knows what he's doing in the kitchen bake something sweet. (Just brotherly bonding.)
Series: Kent-Wayne Family Vingettes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005459
Kudos: 34
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Baking Woes (But Not Really)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the future of the Kent-Wayne Family Vignettes universe. 
> 
> Written for the comfortember prompt: baking
> 
> I did watch way too many episodes of baking shows, and this was mostly inspired by that.

"You ever notice how skinny these judges for those baking shows are?" Jason spoke around the chocolate chip cookie he'd stuffed in his mouth, spraying bits of cookie everywhere. Alfred had made a care package for Jason as an apartment warming gift, and there were a few dozen of Jason’s favorite chocolate chip cookies in it. The cookie that Jason was eating was probably better than the cookies that the home bakers were presenting to the celebrity judges on the show he was watching.

"I mean, they've got to be some kind of superhuman or--"

"Or maybe they're all secretly vigilantes who work off all that they eat. You know, if vigilantes existed outside of movies and comic books," Richard said, plucking a cookie out of Jason's hand. He smirked when Jason scowled at him, quickly shoving the cookie into his mouth before Jason could snatch it back.

"I'm sure they have trainers to help them stay in shape," Timothy said, fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop. He blinked when Jason pressed a cookie to his lips, and obediently took a bite of the tasty treat, licking his lips and chasing after it when Jason pulled it away.

"Shut the laptop and I'll give you the rest," the older boy challenged.

Narrowing his eyes at Jason, Timothy took a moment to calculate his options, gaze going slightly hazy as he went through dozens of scenarios, discarding each one at dizzying rates of speed before settling on one. He bit his lower lip and gave Jason his best impression of Richard’s puppy dog eyes, letting his breath out in a slight whimper. Though it was hard not to, he didn't smirk when Jason growled and popped the cookie back into his mouth. He did sigh at the explosion of flavors that danced across his tongue. Alfred really was a culinary genius.

"You know who else is good at baking..." Timothy and Richard exchanged looks and then turned twin puppy dog eyes on Jason. 

Shaking his head, Jason attempted to look away before he got caught in the sticky web of Richard and Timothy's dual hypnotic stare. It was useless, though, he was trapped already.

"Fine," he said, standing abruptly, teeth clenched as he marched into the kitchen amidst a collective chorus of happy cheers. They wanted him to bake, he'd bake them up a fucking storm.

“Do you want any help?” Richard called out, already knowing what the answer would be. 

If anyone belonged on the, “Worst Bakers in America,” show, it was Richard Grayson-Kent- Wayne. Of course, it didn’t help that their dad, Bruce Wayne, billionaire and CEO of Wayne Enterprises had been known, upon occasion, to burn water, and that Richard had zero ability to pay attention to anything for more than a few minutes at a time.

Jason, on the other hand, had taken to Alfred’s culinary instruction (once their slowly growing family had moved into Wayne Manor) like a duck to water. Mrs. Kent had been equally keen on teaching Jason the art of baking whenever they visited the farm, and he’d thrived under the attention of his grandmother and pseudo-grandfather.

Timothy could successfully heat up...canned soup...if he remembered to take it out of the can first. He’d nearly lost an eye to the event that was known as, The Great Explosion. There had been a trip to the ER that had resulted in a neat little row of three stitches on his left eyebrow. There had been a ceremony for the microwave that had to be retired well before its prime. It was buried in the backyard, and a tree had been planted in its memory. 

Their youngest brother, Damian Kent-Wayne, Bruce and Clark’s biological son through in-vitro fertilization and a surrogate (thanks to recent advances in modern science which enabled them to both contribute to his DNA makeup), had drawn a decent rendering of the poor lost microwave. He’d been three at the time.

“Both of you stay where you are,” Jason said. “I do not want to burn down the kitchen in my brand new apartment.”

“Very funny,” Richard and Timothy said in unison.

“No, what’s funny is that you think I’m joking,” Jason said.

“Less talking, more baking,” Richard said while Timothy made a whipping sound.

“I’m not your lackey,” Jason said.

“Says the lackey,” Timothy said, voice distant; it was clear that he’d already returned the bulk of his attention to whatever it was that the boy genius was doing on his laptop. Another intervention would need to be staged, but first, Jason needed to bake.


End file.
